


a spark, and a fall

by thesiege



Series: —or, trilogy [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: AU, F/M, Reveal, just feelings ok, love square, partial reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-17
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-08-15 11:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 5,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8054878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesiege/pseuds/thesiege
Summary: —or, how a girl falls for a boy split in two, and she doesn't know.





	1. i

It's not because he's handsome, or because he's a famous model, or because he's popular, or because he's unattainable. It's not because his eyes are the glowing green of peridot, or because his hair is a blond mess of perfection, or even because his blinding white smile is so gorgeous it feels like a punch in her stomach (though that's all certainly true).

No, it's because despite all of that, despite knowing — because he must know, he  _ must _ , how could he not? — that he is, quite frankly, the most beautiful boy in France, if not the world, he is still so kind, and genuine, and good.

It's because the way he acts in school belies the confidence and fame of his model persona. He treats every person like a  _ person _ , not a fan — indeed, he never expects people to be fans of his work. It's because — because — because —

Because.

Because it's him and he's sweet and trusting and maybe just a bit naive, and he positively radiates friendliness, and it truly is not possible for anyone to dislike such a pure soul.

That's why Marinette is in love with Adrien. Because sure, she doesn't really know him all that well, given she can hardly string together a coherent sentence in reply to him, but what she sees of him is enough for her heart to beat a little faster when he's near.

Or something like that.

In any case, he's something and she's — just — nothing. And as with pressure or osmosis or other such science-y things that Adrien likes, a patch of Nothing next to a spot of Something always wants some Something to seep in, right?

Or something like that.


	2. ii

It started with trust.

Honestly, she was kind of forced into it. It was only her third time using her powers — only her first time fighting akuma — and he showed up with complementary powers and she was in a pinch and really, what could she do but trust him?

She trusted him and he saved her. She's never stopped trusting him.

Maybe she doesn't know anything about the boy behind the cat mask, but she knows him, Chat Noir, almost better than she knows herself.

Maybe she doesn't know his favorite color or what he likes to eat or his hobbies or who his friends are but what she does know? Is enough for her.

She knows that he makes the worst cat-related puns and actually thinks they're funny but when things are serious, not a trace of humor can be found on his face. She knows he's flippant at the best of times to hide his embarrassingly overwhelming joy and at the worst of times to hide his embarrassingly crushing heartbreak. She knows exactly how to read his sharp green eyes, brilliant as jewels: bright with mirth, soft with affection, murky with concern, dark with pain.

She knows that when he says horrible, sad things like "You, my lady, are more important than my own life" or "Ladybug is a heroine in her own right but little old Chat is nothing without his lady," he absolutely means them. And that knowledge both makes her mad and breaks her heart a little.

Because he is so, so important to her and the one all-encompassing truth she knows about their relationship is that Ladybug is nothing, nothing, nothing without Chat Noir and she will drill that into his head as many times as it takes for as long as it takes for it to finally worm its way through that thick skull of his and settle permanently into his brain.

Because between them, there is undeniable, indomitable trust, and that is not something many people can claim to have.

Because he saves her, every time, by standing with her, fighting with her, loving her.

And maybe she doesn't love him — not in that way, at least — but she will always, always trust him.


	3. iii

She overhears a conversation between Adrien and Nino one day while Alya is in the bathroom.

“Ugh, man, I still haven’t started that five-page essay for history. Honestly, I’d rather sit through one of my dad’s lectures about time management,” Nino complains with a groan, sprawling out across his desk.

_ Oh gosh, I totally forgot about that _ , Marinette thinks despairingly.

Adrien smiles. “It’s not so bad once you start writing. I finished mine last night.”

Marinette smiles dreamily.  _ Of course he did. _

Nino turns an appalled look at his best friend. “Dude, you’re so on top of things, it’s gross.”

Adrien just shrugs and smiles, running a hand through his hair.

Marinette lets out a lovestruck little sigh. He’s so humble and down-to-earth and human and — _ sigh _ . She falls a little bit more in love with him.

_ Chat definitely would’ve said something like, “Yeah, I know, I’m claw-some.” Or maybe: “Oops, I’m pro-cat-stinating!” _ She rolls her eyes, easily imagining Chat puffing out his chest boastfully.

She jolts and fervently shakes her head, cursing her mind for bringing up the silly cat when she’s admiring Adrien (and not for the first time).

Her heart thumps curiously, and the image of the mischievous feline smirk that she knows so well is stuck in her head. She realizes how well she can imagine Chat’s reaction to almost any situation, but when she thinks of Adrien, all she can see is the wide smile that decorates the city’s billboards.

It hits her, then, that she doesn't really know Adrien at all.


	4. iv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just. I love Chat ok. He needs fangirls. WHERE ARE HIS CANON FANGIRLS? THERE'S GOTTA BE SOME COME ON.

She’s embarrassed to admit it, but Adrien’s face distracts her sometimes while she’s “on duty.” Like now, as she races across the rooftops with Chat Noir by her side, as they race to find the akuma before it does too much damage.

_ He looks so perfect _ , she thinks wistfully as she falters and slows to gaze at the billboard.

“Ladybug?”

Startled, she jerks her head to face him. Chat is ahead, looking at her with his head cocked. “What? Oh, er, sorry.”

She leaps back into action but she can practically  _ feel _ Chat’s smugness.

“So,” he says, and she groans internally. “Adrien Agreste, huh?”

“What about him?” she snaps, not bothering to face him. She’s too busy fighting down her blush. She’s Ladybug right now, one half of Paris’ resident heroic duo, confident and in control, and she can’t afford such a slip of composure.

“You like him or something?” There’s something like satisfaction in his voice that confounds her.

She snorts. “Aren’t you supposed to be in love with me or something?” she retorts dryly.

He shrugs as they run. “Adrien’s pretty cool.”

“Hm. And no, I don’t ‘like him or something.’” She rolls her eyes, hoping the lie isn’t too obvious. “I just admire his work as a model.”

“And he’s hot.”

She sighs heavily but allows, “He is pretty attractive, yes.”

“What about me?”

“What  _ about _ you, Chat?”

“Am I ‘pretty attractive’?”

She turns her head sharply towards him to shoot a scathing reply but her breath catches in her throat. He’s grinning at her, half expectant, half bashful, and it’s such a strange mix of emotion on Chat Noir’s face that she looks at him, really looks. And she finds: a head of messy blond hair parted by two cute black cat ears; round, imploring, green eyes, so deep and familiar to her, framed by a black mask; his mischievous smile; a lean, muscular body encased in shiny, skin-tight leather.

She looks back into his eyes and can’t bring herself to lie (unshakable trust, and all that). And so she simply smirks and says truthfully, “Yes.”  _ And you know it. _


	5. v

**** Marinette scrolls through cuts from Adrien’s latest photoshoot, squealing and sighing and just generally admiring him. A slightly crooked seam in one of the shirts he wears catches her eye, and she frowns, leaning back in her seat and crossing her arms over her chest.

It’s barely noticeable, really, and no one is perfect, after all, but Marinette can’t help but think she would’ve made sure the garment was as perfectly perfect as possible before allowing it to be showcased. Even if no one else would be able to tell,  _ she would know _ .

“Actually, that pocket looks a little high...I think it’d look better a couple centimeters down the shirt...and, hmm, not sure about that color...of course, Adrien makes it work but...black? I wonder what he looks like in black, he never wears it...”

An image of Adrien in all-black flashes in her mind’s eye and she almost smacks herself at the nearly automatic comparison to Chat Noir.

“What are you thinking, Marinette, stupid, stupid!” she mutters to herself, so immersed in her own thoughts —or rather, immersed in trying to get  _ out _ of them—that she doesn’t notice Tikki until the little spotted kwami has perched herself on Marinette’s shoulder and mused into her ear, “Looking at pictures of Adrien again? You never change, do you, Mari?”

Marinette chuckles weakly. “Nope!” she says but her mind thinks,  _ Maybe I have. _


	6. vi

It’s a late night after a particularly exhausting akuma battle, during which she and Chat both had to de-transform, recharge, and transform back several times, that she realizes how deeply endeared she truly is to Chat.

There’s a weariness in his eyes too deep-seated to be the result of an akuma battle that, all things considered, wasn’t really  _ that _ difficult, just long. He’s cracking jokes and making puns as always, but there’s a definitive sluggishness in his movements as they make their way back to the heart of the city, where they usually split and go their own ways, and his voice is lazy and slow.

She knows there are some issues in his civilian life, but never has she seen them affect him so clearly. She hesitates to ask, both wanting to comfort him and afraid to pry —because that would be awfully hypocritical, wouldn’t it, seeing as she’s the one who is always so quick to shut down any reference to their civilian selves and so against revealing their true selves to each other.

But she’s so worried about him, about the exhaustion in his eyes, that she doesn’t stop herself when she suggests they sit together for a bit before going home.

He is clearly surprised that she would even think of such a thing and it hurts her heart a little to realize how firmly she must have been pushing him away for him to think, even remotely, that she sneers at his company. Because that’s not it at all. It’s just that she knows, she  _ knows _ , that if she spends more time with him, she’ll be so, so tempted to tell him her identity and to beg his—and she just can’t deal with that.

They sit on a sufficiently tall building, their legs dangling over the edge, hands planted at their sides. There is a respectful distance between them, perhaps even a bit too much, she muses, but neither moves as they recline in silence, enjoying the night breeze and the moon’s rays and each other’s warm presence.

Marinette opens an eye and peeks at him, worrying her lip between her teeth. He looks so relaxed like this, stretched out like a languid kitty cat perched high, eyes closed, hair waving in the wind.

_ Beautiful _ , she thinks instinctively and her heart kicks, just a little.

As beautiful as Adrien, indeed.

He must feel her eyes on him because he slowly blinks them open and turns the full force of his gaze on her, and suddenly she has no words. What can she say to soothe the bone-aching tiredness she sees in every line of his body? What are the words she can use and still maintain their friendly professional relationship?

What is there to say to the one person she can always count on to cheer her up (or at least try his best)?

She thinks in some respects, he may very well be her best friend.

“Ladybug? Was there something you needed to tell me or did I just imagine it?”

Marinette laughs a little, because she forgot, for the briefest moment, that he can read her just as well as she can read him. She shakes her head and says, “I just...wanted to know if you’re, you know, okay. You just look so  _ tired _ and, well—” She bites her lip again. “Just, I don’t know. I’m always here for you, cat. You know that, right?”

There’s something in his eyes as he looks at her, something she thinks she’s seen there before, except deeper, and a shiver runs up her spine.

“Yeah.” His voice is a breath exhaled in the still space between them. “I know.”


	7. vii

Alya is complaining about the exam next week when Nino turns around and interrupts by suggesting a group study session.

“Adrien’s on top of all this, so he can help us study,” Nino explains.

“Alya actually doesn’t need any help,” Marinette chimes in. “She knows everything. She’s just complaining for the sake of it.”

“Am not!” Alya protests but Marinette just laughs.

“Guess it’s just you and I, Mari.” Nino nods solemnly.

“You and  _ me _ ,” Alya coughs and Marinette and Nino simultaneously roll their eyes.

Adrien returns from the library and slides into his seat, twisting around to join the conversation. “What’s up?”

“We’re planning a study session,” Nino tells him with an easy grin. “For the exam. You and Alya know your stuff so you two are helping Mari and I—sorry, Mari and  _ me _ —with the material.”

“What if I say no?” Adrien teases and Nino gasps dramatically.

Marinette bites her lip as she watches Adrien interact with Nino and Alya, trying to think of something smart or witty or, at least, not embarrassing to say. But her mind is blank and Alya is getting too heated up debating some trivial matter with Nino that she doesn’t notice.

So Marinette sits in silence, bites her lip, and watches Adrien out of the corner of her eye. She peeks, and peeks, and peeks, until suddenly his eyes catch hers and she freezes.

Adrien blinks twice, and then inclines his head towards their arguing best friends with a decidedly naughty smile. She’s so startled by its resemblance to Chat’s that she automatically reacts with a roll of her eyes.

He chuckles, and she feels like the lights shine just a bit brighter.


	8. viii

Generally, Chat’s flirty banter is easily waved away, self-important lines meant in jest, but sometimes she can’t deny the truth in his words.

The wind buffets their hair and whistles sharply in their ears as they fight to stay on the rooftop, shivering in the cold. There’s no akuma, just a desire to spend some time together, but the weather is just not having it.

“It’s f-f-f-fur-reezing out h-here,” Chat stammers, his teeth chattering together. “Purr-haps we could cuddle and share body heat?”

Marinette rolls her eyes at the hopeful tone to his words but considers the offer. Honestly, cuddling with Chat sounds like the best idea right now, short of just going home (but she doesn’t want to leave him yet).

Still, she has to suggest it. “We could just go home?”

Chat immediately defers to her. “If that’s what you want.”

“What do  _ you _ want?” she demands, curling tighter into herself.

Chat shrugs and looks away. “I’d rather sit in the cold than go back home right now,” he mumbles and she really has no choice, now, does she?

With a sigh, she pulls her knees up and practically falls into Chat. His arms instinctively wrap around her and she readjusts herself on his lap into a more comfortable position and she sighs into his neck and winds her arms around his back, enjoying his warmth. She can feel the outline of his muscles like this— his chest, his arms, his back —but thinking about his very real muscles makes her blush like a tomato so she quickly forces her mind to empty itself out, even as her fingers trace swirls down his spine.

“L-ladybug?”

“It’s cold,” she grumbles, and he chuckles and tucks his chin over her head.

“Your fingers tickle,” he says and she immediately freezes them. “In a good way! They feel nice. Don’t stop.” Her fingers resume their movements after a moment.

The wind howls louder, pushes harder, and they curl inwards, bodies wrapped around each other. His fingers begin tracing trails of electric heat down the middle of her back. To Marinette’s eternal mortification, she almost purrs with satisfaction at his touch.

“Don’t let the wind shove you off the roof, kitty,” she murmurs into his throat, closing her eyes as she relaxes into his embrace.

His arms tighten almost imperceptibly around her. “Don’t worry. These arms are for keeping you safe.”

She snorts.

She knows it’s not true, but when she’s wrapped in their strength, his arms really do feel like the safest place this side of heaven.


	9. ix

Adrien seems so lonely sometimes. She can’t be the only one who sees it—she knows Nino gets angry just thinking about Adrien’s father, and Alya occasionally snarks about the famous man—and yet, no one ever asks him about it. Perhaps he prefers his mask over anything else, but Marinette can’t help but want to share the burden of his emotions. Because that’s what you do for the people you love, right? You shoulder their problems and support them as they try to solve them.

But Adrien is oddly adept at making himself scarce or unapproachable. It’s the oddest thing; Marinette will be gazing in his direction and suddenly she’ll notice a subtle droop to his shoulders, a heavy fatigue in his frown, and even his bright eyes will seem limp, and he’ll exude such an aura of dejection that no one dares to approach, not even Marinette.

But that is exactly what prompts her to walk up to him cautiously, careful smile in place, and offer her umbrella to shield him from the rain. He looks at her and surprise spreads slowly across his face, his sadness causing his reactions to lag.

“You can use this,” she says shyly, holding out the umbrella.

He stares at her for a second and then shakes his head. “No, you go ahead. I’m just waiting for my driver. He must be late today due to the rain.”

“I’ll wait with you.”

“You don’t—”

“I know,” she cuts him off with a little smile.

His smile grows haltingly as the dim light in his eyes flares to brilliance again. And Marinette feels almost more victorious than after any akuma battle she’s won.

Because this is what you do for the people you love. You stand by them when no one else does.


	10. x

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (marichat is my guilty pleasure. least likely corner of the love square but. there's. just something. I LOVE ABOUT THEM. actually maybe it's because they're the least likely; that means they have to really get to know each other to even think about the other in a romantic light, right? idkkkkk I JUST LOVE THEM)

She didn’t mean for it to happen. The kiss, that is. It just—happened.

But she finds that she doesn’t regret it. On the contrary, she’d really, really, really, really,  _ really _ like it to “just happen” again.

Except—Adrien. She’s in love with Adrien. She is, isn’t she? Just the thought of him brings a dopey smile to her face. And yet—

And yet when she bumped her fist against Chat Noir’s after that grueling fight and his eyes were sparkling so happily, and he gripped her waist and spun her in the air victoriously, grinning and laughing so genuinely that she couldn’t help but join in—when he finally set her down, flushed with excitement, clawed hands still hot against her hips, she could only watch in a daze as her arm stretched itself up to brush his soft bangs out of his eyes. She could only watch as he realized the intimate position they were in, realized she wasn’t running away from him, and his eyes darkened just a fraction as his face turned solemn and wanting and maybe even a little desperate.

Her heart gave an involuntary jolt in response.  _ Chat _ , it sighed.

The air between them was charged with some emotion she couldn’t quite place, and didn’t really want to analyze. Her fingers left his hair and settled on his shoulders.

And then she couldn’t watch—couldn’t keep her eyelids open, somehow, they just felt so heavy—as he leaned down ever so slowly, and her lips parted ever so slightly, and his shallow, heated breaths mingled with hers.

He spoke. She felt it rather than heard it as the words whispered over her lips:  _ My lady. _ But she did hear the question in his voice, the hesitant lilt that told her he would never do anything to her that she didn’t truly want.

Her answer was in her stillness.

And then his lips were on hers, soft, slow, gentle. She gave a whimper at his tenderness, at the unexpected rush of emotion in her chest, at the rightness of him being her first kiss, and pressed back a little harder.

And then he was gone, ripped himself away from her. The night’s cool air flooded in and she shivered mightily, a full-body shake, as her eyes opened in confusion and readjusted. She found him meters away, breathing heavily, hands fisted tight at his sides, refusing to look at her.

“I—” he croaked, then swallowed. He met her eyes briefly— _ anguish, yearning, fear, confusion, pain _ —and then he jumped up and disappeared.

Marinette doesn’t know what to think anymore. All she knows is that there are two boys fighting for a place in her heart, and right now one of them is certainly winning—but she’s not sure he’s the one she wants.


	11. xi

She doesn't know how or when it happened, but at some time in her life between meeting Adrien and laughing at him over coffee, they became friends.

Her heart still thumps at the sight of him and she still trips over her words sometimes, but she can (almost) comfortably text him just to say hi or casually ask him to study together or even just to hang out.

He’s a lot dorkier than she ever expected, and more excitable too. In fact, he reminds her of Chat sometimes. But then her heart hurts, so she shoves the black cat out of her head.

Sometimes, he gets this faraway look in his eyes, and when she calls him back to earth, he just apologizes and says, “Nostalgia,” as if that means anything to her. She can’t push him, though, so she lets it go, but she wonders if he’s thinking of someone else, someone better than her.

Sometimes, she wonders if it’s better to give up.

But then she wakes up.

“Don’t be stupid, Marinette,” she tells herself.


	12. xii

Ever since the kiss, things have been...weird, to say the least.

Marinette isn’t sure whether or not to bring it up.

Well, no, that’s not quite right. She  _ knows _ they need to talk about it sometime — _ eventually _ —but Chat seems dead-set on pretending that night never happened. She’s hurt, but at the same time, she’s kind of relieved. Because she finally understands something she’s known subconsciously for a long, long time. 

She loves Adrien for the same reason Chat loves Ladybug: because it’s safe. The feelings are there, of course, but a large part of her obsession —and Chat’s, she’s come to realize—is due to the futility of her crush. Because the thing is, Adrien is a great guy. It’s a fact she’s come to truly appreciate now that they’re actually friends. But, though it does hurt to admit it, they don’t really know each other and he has no interest in her and therefore there is no chance of her having to actually face her feelings, and his, the relationship between them. She just...likes him, and she likes liking him. It’s as easy as breathing, and just as important. Because liking Adrien, obsessing over Adrien, means she has no time to think about anyone else.

Except.

Except, of course, the stupid cat and his stupid charming ways and of course, even when she stubbornly insists on loving someone else, he can still squeeze his way into her mind and never leave it.

The thing about Chat is that he  _ knows _ her, but he doesn’t know  _ her _ . He doesn’t know all the trivial facts about her life, but he knows her soul like his own, and she knows his. But he wants to know who she is and that makes everything all the scarier.

Because Marinette? Well, she’s just Marinette. By no means is she small, or shy, or weak, but she certainly can’t compare to the majesty of Ladybug. All her strengths are amplified when she’s in her spotted suit, and that is what Chat sees and loves. That is what he believes her to be—but she’s not.

Naturally, Ladybug has her flaws too. It would take a lot of pressuring and probably blackmail to get her to admit it, but she does know that Ladybug’s pride is no insignificant trifle. But this confidence is what allows Chat Noir and the city’s inhabitants to trust her and believe in her abilities.

Marinette simply cannot compare.

And while Chat Noir is flawed in his own ways—a little too flippant, too reckless, too absent-minded, too lovable—Marinette has no doubt his true identity is equally amazing.

And Marinette—plain, normal Marinette—is just too scared to find out.


	13. xiii

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just posting it all up in one go.
> 
> CLIFFHANGER ENDING WHA—  
> I know, I know. I'll post up the sequel tomorrow!
> 
> Hope you liked this, definitely more introspective-y, less dialogue-y. I have a thing for Mari falling for Chat while stubbornly holding onto her infatuation for Adrien. It's great. :D

In the end, it happens because of an accident (as many frightening, wonderful things do).

It is a rainy day and Marinette and Adrien are walking together to the bakery to study, as is often these days. Alya and Nino are having their own study date—not that Marinette and Adrien are having a _date_ or anything, of course not—so it’s just the two of them. Adrien’s sleek black umbrella tilts over Marinette’s sunshine yellow one, dripping excess water onto it and almost getting Marinette’s shoulder wet.

Looking up, Marinette grins and raises her umbrella, nudging Adrien’s own and tilting a few raindrops onto his arm. He jumps at the sudden wet coldness, looking very much like a startled cat, and Marinette laughs as she skips ahead before he can shake himself off and splash her.

“I’m hit, I’m hit!” Adrien groans dramatically as he stumbles towards her. “Mari, how could you! These are designer, you know!”

She blushes at how dorky and cute he’s being but rolls her eyes (even she’s shocked sometimes by how comfortable she’s become around him). “It didn’t even touch fabric! Your sleeves are rolled up.”

Adrien sighs. “You don’t understand. As Paris’ best teen model, even my skin is considered designer.”

“And here I thought humility was your best trait.” She giggles.

He grins and nudges her umbrella. She nudges back. He nudges again, a little harder, and the competitive glint in her eyes is matched in his own. They begin shoving each other with their umbrella-weapons, uncaring of how the cool rain soaks through their shoes and clothes uncomfortably, slicks through their hair and down their faces. Two tones of happy laughter ring out as they race to the bakery in the pouring onslaught.

Marinette spies her last name in the distance and makes a break for it, Adrien hot on her heels.

“Hey, that’s not fair! You definitely had a head start!” Adrien complains loudly, but the infectious grin on his face undermines his words.

“You’re just slow!” Marinettes taunts back, turning briefly to stick her tongue out.

Mistake.

Her feet slip and trip over a gutter in the road and she feels like she’s going down in slow motion as she flings her arms out and flails for balance, gripping onto her umbrella for dear life as if it can save her.

Big mistake.

“ _Marinette!_ ”

She has just enough time to think _Ladybug would never have tripped_ before she lands with a huff and a grunt.

But no pain?

She opens her eyes and finds herself clutched to a panting chest. Adrien is on his knees from catching her weight and his arms are wrapped around her so tightly her chest feels tight.

Or maybe that’s just the overflow of love and affection she’s feeling for him. Either or.

“Gosh, Marinette, be careful! Are you alright? You scared me half to death!” he babbles as he pulls back, scans her for injury, and hugs her tight again, breathing into her shoulder.

She chuckles shakily, heart still pumping from adrenaline and maybe a little from his embrace (okay, more than a little). “I was halfway _to_ death,” she jokes, and his arms tighten around her.

“Don’t even joke about that, Mari! You could’ve been seriously hurt!”

He’s shaking, she realizes as her fingers creep up his chest, pausing over his rapidly beating heart, and around his neck to hold him comfortingly, and she knows it’s not from the cold.

“You’re right. Sorry,” she says softly. “Thank you for saving me, Adrien.”

He doesn’t speak, just nods into her neck and—she presumes—waits for his heart to calm down. After a while, he still hasn’t moved, so she tries to pull away but he holds on stubbornly. “Um, Adrien, I’m okay now. Let’s go inside and dry off, okay?” She pats his back awkwardly.

“A little longer. Please.” His voice is muffled but almost desperate. So she gives in and enjoys the moment.

Adrien’s hug is so warm and relaxing. She thinks she could fall asleep in these arms, live in these arms.

She thinks she could be happy in these arms.

Green cat eyes and a feline smirk flash through her mind.

She stiffens.

_Wait a second._

She knows these arms, knows this safety. His heat is as familiar to her as her own and she almost wonders how she’s never noticed before except she knows neither of them ever allowed the opportunity.

But _how could she not have seen it_?

Marinette gasps and jerks out of his hold, fear and curiosity and surprise and anticipation and intimidation all warring in her ocean-blue eyes—eyes that travel over his wet blond hair, plastered to his face and accenting his emerald eyes.

“ _Chat?_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! /bows/ Thank you for reading my first story here on AO3. This is actually complete and cross-posted on FFnet, but I thought I'd copy it here for more people to read (and maybe give me feedback PLS I BEG).
> 
> Oh, I don't own anything!!! :''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''''D
> 
> I love Miraculous Ladybug. SO MUCH ANGST POTENTIAL. That is all.
> 
> Enjoy the story!!!


End file.
